Mari tried to object with a sour expression, but Lorraine didn’t give her the chance.

“Mari, someone naturally gifted like you wouldn’t understand.”

Lorraine skillfully shifted the conversation’s focus to Mari.

“You have great reflexes and flexibility, and you were born with long, slender limbs that make even the smallest movements stand out.”

When she smiled with a slight sidelong glance, she looked so beautiful that everything around her seemed to glow.

“Don’t come to Voluptas. If you show up, I’ll immediately lose my role.”

Lorraine’s playful banter improved Mari’s mood, and she started chatting with Lorraine again.

“How could I ever take your role? You have the recognition and reputation.”

“Too late. You’re my rival starting today.”

The briefly tense atmosphere quickly turned festive when Lorraine raised her glass.

‘She hasn’t changed…’

Debbie’s eyes softened as she watched Lorraine. That warmth that had once made her care for even a single excluded child remained consistent into adulthood.

‘Thank goodness.’

Debbie smiled with relief. After several rounds of drinks, the already tired showgirls, working late into the night, had flushed red faces.

“Lorraine, do you still like Mr. Fret?”

At Mari’s question, Lorraine jumped in surprise.

“Like him? That ended ages ago.”

“Well, he’s quite the impenetrable wall. But poor Mr. Fret, not recognizing the gem right beside him.”

The dancer next to her clinked glasses and added, “Or maybe his preferences are for men, like the rumors say.”

“Don’t talk nonsense.”

Lorraine, who rarely hardened her expression, furrowed her brow at those words. Realizing the slip-up in front of an outsider, Mari pinched the dancer’s side. A very brief silence fell over the group.

“I miss Teacher Pitz!”

Lorraine exclaimed with a flushed, tipsy face.

“If only he’d been a bit kinder with his words. Who knew he would die all alone like that?”

Mari swayed drunkenly beside her.

“If he hadn’t, I would have at least visited him.”

Debbie quietly asked Jane again, “Who is Teacher Pitz?”

“He taught us the basics of dance. Though he came from a pr*stitute background himself, he wanted his students to walk a different path.”

Jane swirled her glass before taking a gulp.

“There aren’t many performance venues, you know. Most dancers perform at entertainment establishments to attract customers. Teacher Pitz told us our generation would be different, that we should take pride in our performances even in bars.”

Jane chuckled softly, seemingly recalling memories.

“He would scold us harshly, telling us not to fall for the advances of drunkards, and not to think we could casually seduce others.”

“What?”

“How easy do we look? We just want to dance, but people assume that dancers have loose morals.”

“Ah…”

Jane sighed with a flushed smile.

“I may be a strip dancer, but I don’t sell my body. Is that so hard to understand? These bruises are from being accused of acting high and mighty despite being ‘just a strip dancer.'”

Her voice grew louder than before, though it wasn’t clear who she intended to hear it.

Debbie looked again at Jane’s bruises that she had noticed earlier.

“Our teacher was someone who opened a path for those of us who desperately wanted to learn dance but had nowhere to go. All the dancers gathered here share the pride of being his students. That bond brings us together every time.”

Somehow, Debbie felt everyone’s eyes subtly turning toward Jane. Her words made Debbie think Jane might be worth interviewing.

“Do drunk patrons cause a lot of trouble?”

“Not always, but strip dancers probably look like easy targets.”

Jane gave a bitter smile.

“Dancing with a pole is pole dancing, flying around holding suspended fabric is aerial dance.”

She added with a slightly slurred tongue, “I love the moment of dancing freely, defying gravity, but if we just performed normally, nobody would come to watch. To entertain drinkers, we have to remove layers one by one.”

“That’s why I don’t like you coming to our gatherings, Jane.”

Mari, who seemed to have lost interest in their conversation while mingling with Lorraine, had somehow approached them again. Her voice carried thinly veiled contempt and coldness.

“Seems you want to save face in front of your potential student. Teacher always told us to maintain our dignity, but you couldn’t do that.”

Jane stood up abruptly, unable to contain herself any longer.

“You’re all commodifying s*x just the same! Why is it okay for you but not for me?”

The other dancers’ eyes grew sharp.

“I never sold my body! I did it because I was in love! Not for money!”

Mari twisted her eyebrows even more and shouted, “Oh really? You fell in love so quickly and fell out of it just as fast. How many sugar daddies have you gone through?”

“They weren’t sugar daddies!”

Jane angrily pushed Mari.

“What about all of you?”

“Don’t put us on the same level as you!”

At that moment, Jane’s hand struck Mari’s cheek.

Slap!

“How are you any different from me?”

Jane finally exploded.

“If you work in a big club, you’re an artist, but in a small club, you’re just a bar wench?”

Mari didn’t hold back either and slapped Jane’s face.

Smack!

“Stop lying! Who’s judging you based on venue status? We’re talking about your conduct!”

“Don’t insult my love!”

In an instant, they grabbed each other’s hair and engaged in a noisy physical fight. What surrounded them wasn’t spontaneous anger but long-harbored resentment.

Debbie, unsure what to do between them, got hit in the shoulder by Jane’s elbow and was pushed back.

While Debbie had seen women fighting in marketplaces before, this was her first time witnessing a brawl right in front of her. Moreover, fueled by alcohol, neither woman held back.

Trying to intervene, Debbie approached them only to be kicked in the side. It was a powerful blow that instantly sobered her up. These women were incredibly strong.

“Stop!”

Lorraine was the one who single-handedly brought the chaos under control.

Despite her slender arms, she somehow had enough strength to restrain both Jane and Mari with her left and right hands, separating them with overwhelming charisma.

“If you want to blame someone, blame me for inviting you both to the same place knowing you don’t get along.”

When Jane tried to lunge forward again, still not satisfied, Lorraine firmly gripped her wrist.

“Ow! That hurts! It hurts!”

Jane screamed. Lorraine had slightly twisted Jane’s hand, preventing her from attacking further and making her beg to be released.

“Teacher Pitz would be so pleased to see you two like this.”

Mari, with disheveled hair and swollen cheeks from the slaps, pleaded her case.

“Lorraine, why do you keep defending Jane? Would you still smile if we were all treated like prostitutes?”

Lorraine responded with a cool expression.

“Our dream is to create a world where dance is appreciated for what it is. Not considered inferior to ballet, not performed to attract customers in bars, not as eye candy at events like tonight. We want people to recognize that our movements themselves are beautiful and meaningful.”

“That’s exactly why Jane deserves criticism! We’re trying so hard to shed that stigma, and she’s just throwing mud on all of us!”

Mari pointed her finger at Jane, expressing her discontent. But Lorraine remained unwavering.

“Mari, our performances are at least managed by managers and controlled by bodyguards. But Jane wants to do pole dancing, and there’s no dedicated stage just for that anywhere. So she has no manager, no bodyguards, and has to handle everything alone. Even if Jane did sell her body, it was the result of having to deal with everything by herself. Let’s forgive her and move on.”

As soon as Lorraine finished speaking, Jane burst into tears. Seeing this, Mari bit her lips repeatedly before rushing outside.

“I’m leaving first.”

The lively drinking party broke up just like that.

The others, seemingly sharing Mari’s opinion, left one by one without comforting Jane or offering a hand.

“I’m tired. I’ll get going now. I have a performance scheduled tomorrow.”

“I’d like to skip the next gathering.”

After everyone had gone, only Lorraine, Jane, and Debbie remained.

Lorraine silently watched Jane sobbing before turning away.

“I can’t comfort you because, honestly, my feelings aren’t that different from theirs.”

There was a hint of sadness in Lorraine’s eyes.

“But Jane, I wish you’d become stronger. Don’t let men control your life. Scandals are ultimately fatal for performers.”

Watching Lorraine leave, Debbie hesitated.

She had originally come here to interview Lorraine and couldn’t let her go without even speaking to her. However, she felt reluctant to leave while Jane was still crying. Just then, Allen approached to clear the table.

“Allen, please take care of Jane.”

Debbie pulled Allen close to Jane’s side before hurriedly following Lorraine outside.

“Lorraine!”

Lorraine, who was about to board a carriage, turned around. Debbie was somewhat surprised to see that the person helping Lorraine into the carriage had a familiar face. It was Fret.

What is he doing here?

Fret whispered something in Lorraine’s ear. Lorraine, about to enter the carriage, glanced back briefly.

Sensing her opportunity, Debbie ran with all her might to catch up.

“Wait!”

Lorraine stood there with a rather reluctant look.

“Do you… remember me?”

Out of breath from running, Debbie couldn’t organize her thoughts or words properly.

“From Terium Province… I…”

“I know. You’re now a junior reporter for Troublesome magazine, right?”

“So you did know. Then why did you pretend not to?”

“I wanted to forget the past.”

Her tone was quite dry, showing a stark contrast to the passion she had displayed when mediating Jane’s fight.

“Why?”

“Because childhood is like a wound I want to erase…”

Lorraine’s eyes narrowed, challenging Debbie for asking something so obvious. Debbie hadn’t expected someone who valued relationships like Lorraine to be so dismissive.

But on the other hand, she understood.

Even at a glance, a dancer’s life was quite exhausting, and she probably didn’t want her hard-earned career to be disparaged because of her background.

But it’s about her parents, isn’t it?

Lorraine’s abrupt response weighed heavily on Debbie, who had hoped for a more nuanced answer.

“I see… Both our parents were punished as rebellion instigators, so I can understand.”

Debbie now somewhat understood why Lorraine had been avoiding her. Perhaps she didn’t want to get entangled in matters related to their shared regional origin and the rebellion.

“Is that all you called me for?”

Lost in thoughts of the past, Debbie snapped back to reality at Lorraine’s cold voice.

This wasn’t the unfailingly kind Lorraine from her childhood. This woman who spoke her mind, mediated conflicts, and sometimes used force was no longer someone Debbie knew well.

“No, not just that. I wanted to interview you.”

Unable to admit that she had originally intended to interview showgirls about their s*xual experiences, Debbie circled around the topic.

“About prejudices people have against dancing, or the joys and sorrows unique to showgirls…”